


Turncoat

by Rainne



Series: Thank-You Fics [8]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Gen, Where Was Clint Barton During Captain America 2?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:17:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4582185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainne/pseuds/Rainne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint gets a mission he just can't complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turncoat

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of my Thank-You Fics, so called because they have been written as thank-you gifts to people who have donated to my mother's cancer fund, which is helping to pay for my mother's chemotherapy treatments and eventual surgeries.
> 
> If you would like to know more about my writing and my gift fics and how to get a Thank-You Fic of your own, please visit [this Tumblr post](http://rainnecassidy.tumblr.com/post/118466323344/please-help). Thanks.

"Sir, is... is this accurate?"

John Garrett's face is an impassive mask as he studies Clint Barton over a cafe table in Queens. "It's accurate," he says. "Is this going to be a problem, Agent?"

"No," Clint says slowly, staring at the mission briefing in his hands, his mind racing a thousand miles a minute.  "No, I just... I feel like whoever you send for this is probably going to find himself on the wrong side of a repulsor beam, because Tony Stark does not fucking play about this."

"That's why we're sending you," Garrett replies, that blank mask still in place.  "You know them, you worked with Stark that time in Manhattan; rumor is he's even built a little clubhouse up there at the top of his tower in case the band ever decides to get back together.  You can get in and do the job without any problems."

Clint chews his lip. "Well," he says, "I wouldn't say there won't be any problems, but I can do the job."

"Then do it," Garrett replies, holding his hand out for the tablet Clint's been reading.  Clint hands it to him, and Garrett closes it, sliding it into his backpack.  "You have thirty-six hours."

Clint nods. He stands up, collects his bow case, and leaves.

Garrett waits until he's well and truly gone, and then dials a number.  "Barton's in play," he says. "Countdown is six hours, then deploy the Asset."

*

Four hours later, in Manhattan, a bike messenger stands in front of the reception desk in the office of Stark Industries' CEO and argues with the young man in the blue suit behind the desk.  "You can't see Ms. Potts," the young man says. "She's very busy. Just leave the message with me, and I'll make sure she gets it. That's my _job_."

"Yeah, pal, well this is _my_ job, and I ain't getting fired over you," the bike messenger replies, raising his voice a bit.  "Nobody gets this package but Ms. Potts, see, and I'll stand here all day if I got to."

"I'm telling you, man, if you were the President of the United States, you would not be getting past me to give anything to Ms. Potts," the receptionist snaps.  "Now, either give me the package or get out."

"Why don't you stick your head through that door and ask Ms. Potts if she still likes skydiving off the Brooklyn Bridge," the bike messenger says.  "Tell you what.  You do that, and see what happens, and if I'm not through that door within thirty seconds, I'll give you this -" he holds up a crisp hundred dollar bill "- and I'll go away quietly.  Deal?"

The young man sniffs at him. "I'll take your money," he says. "And I'll take your picture while security's throwing you out."  He goes over to the door and taps on it; a moment later, he pushes it open and says, "Ms. Potts, I'm terribly sorry to disturb you.  There's a bicycle messenger here with a package, and he's insisting that it has to be delivered directly to you.  He said to ask you if you still enjoy skydiving off the Brooklyn Bridge. Shall I call security?"

A moment later, the receptionist scrambles back, and Pepper Potts herself appears in the doorway.  She takes one look at the bike messenger and says, "Come in."

The messenger smirks at the receptionist as he passes. "Have a good day, now," he says.  The door swings shut behind him.

Behind the door, Pepper says, "JARVIS, full blackout."

The floor-to-ceiling windows go dark immediately, and the air in the room takes on a weird quality that makes Clint's hearing aid give off static.  Pepper looks apologetic.  "It's a noise generator," she explains.  "Tony, of course.  White noise, brown noise, and something called pink noise? I don't know the specifications, but apparently it utterly wrecks surveillance equipment.  But you didn't press the panic button to hear me talk about security measures."  She waves a hand.  "What's the matter, Clint?"

Clint pulls his hat off and rubs a hand across his recently-shorn hair.  "Something's gone wrong at SHIELD," he says flatly. "They sent me here to kill you."

Pepper blinks at him.  "Well," she says slowly, "you're welcome to try, but you might find it rather more difficult than you would have this time last year."

"I'm not going to try!" Clint yelps, and then glares when Pepper grins at him. "This is not a joke, Pepper."

"I know it's not," Pepper replies. "But you don't know about Extremis."  She waves him to a couch and goes to a credenza at the side of the office, opening it up to reveal a mini-fridge. "Water, juice, soda?"

"Water, please," Clint says as he sits down.  He drops the box containing his bow and quiver on the floor at his feet.

Pepper brings him a bottle of water and sits down across from him on a comfortable chair.  "The short version is that last December I got dosed with a chemical called Extremis, and it left me with some rather extraordinary new abilities."  She grins, holds out her hand, and demonstrates.

Clint stares at the fire that now burns all around Pepper's hand. "Holy shit," he says softly. "You're like Johnny Storm only a thousand times prettier."

Pepper grins. "That might be the nicest thing anyone's said to me all week."

Clint grins. Then he sobers. "They still want you dead," he says. "I'm not sure what's going on, but something is _bad_ wrong down there.  I can't get in touch with Nat or Cap, they're on a mission and they've gone dark.  I'm going to head back to D.C. to see if I can find out what the hell's going on."

"Maybe that's not the best idea," Pepper replies.  "I feel like it might be better if you stayed here.  I mean, if you show up in D.C. and I'm not dead, you're going to be in a lot of trouble, right?"

Clint chews his lip. "Yeah, but..."

"Just... just stay for a little bit. Talk to Tony and Bruce. Strategize. See if you can get in touch with Natasha or Steve." Pepper leans forward.  "Clint, SHIELD isn't the only team you have.  Use your resources.  All of them."

Clint takes a deep breath and then nods. "Yeah," he says. "Okay."

Shortly thereafter, all hell breaks loose.


End file.
